The Girl
by Leonaleblahblah
Summary: A girl wakes up inside the bustling Michigan Central Station, Detroit. She has no dialect and no language to speak of and no identification, except for a crumpled old note that contains a riddle and a strange branding mark on the palm of her left hand.
1. Chapter 1

I remembered my choices before dawn. That morning I last saw the sun…..  
I didn't know everything would change. I didn't know anything anymore. I wasn't allowed to.

A strong scent of freshly ground coffee hovered in the air. Scalding tea pots with billows of cloudy puffs of steam mirrored the burning inside her. And there…  
Everything hovered above her in the air, above the platforms of the station.  
Waiters with cups stacked high, black markers at the ready, oblivious to the fact they were being watched.

Her body ached, it stung to open her eyes and everything was blurry. Just like her mind.  
She remembered everything about today, but nothing about yesterday. Except that glorious sun, before everything changed. Was that yesterday? No. I must not tell. There is a fire in my left hand, but I must not tell.

Everything about the station was un-homely. Rigid. Disposable. Ruled by the grand clock that hung above it. She thought to herself, her eyes closed, relieving her senses from her surroundings. Shut out this world. Something from yesterday was familiar about this. How long had it been? How long ago did I get here? To think these thoughts felt alien to her. As if her mind had not been her own before now.

The grand clock chimed above the submissive marble floors beneath it. A fluttering sound of shutters opening for business rang out here and there, like birds flitting from tree to tree. A low hum began to grow as people started to pile in. It vibrated in her empty rib cage.

A man rustled fresh newspapers, stacking them neatly. She could smell the fresh ink from here.  
Be present she thought.  
Some strange sharp voice came from inside her, some unknown strength resonating and pumping throughout her unresponsive body.  
And there it lay, deep inside her gut.  
This incomprehensible feeling, this feeling of doom.  
Pure and utter dread pinched every molecule of her being, as the coldness and darkness once more blocked out any sense she tried to make of her situation.  
What am I, who am I, why am I here?

How many chimes of this clock before I am noticed? It seemed she watched the face of the clock forever. Its arm spinning round and round, never ending. Tick – Tock.  
Cycle after cycle. Like the large white sphere in the sky that she sat under night after night. Infinitum.

The pounding of her heart curtailed these thoughts. She was alive.  
Heaviness returned to her eyelids, the stinging watery bulbs that protruded from her bony skull screamed to be closed. The fire in her left hand burned into her, dangling her on the cusp of consciousness. Everything was black behind her eyelids. As if her two worlds never existed separately. She could always hear it, that voice. "You must forget".  
That voice. That strange unfamiliar voice that she heard every time she slipped into the darkness. The unfamiliarity of it becoming the only consistent presence in her existence.  
"You must forget". Forget what?  
No time for questions. You must conform.

There was another voice, a tortured sound, a scream in the darkness. Sobs that kept time with the pulsating, throbbing fire in her left hand. Why the left? Always the left…..  
But you must not remember.  
She felt her limbs twitch and move on the other side of her darkness. Everything felt heavy. Disconnected, but strangely, her own.  
Images flashed through her mind. Her naked skin, tunnels upon tunnels of darkness. A candle lighting somewhere.  
Her arm twitched violently. Her senses from the other side warning her of a touch. Skin.  
It felt like something before, but different. Comforting, warmth.  
Too good on her waxy, cold skin.  
Her eyes flickered open…..


	2. Chapter 2

For 23 years now Jeffrey Hamilton never once got up in the morning and dreaded his security job at the train station. He heard and saw a lot at the station. People travelling home for Christmas, those commuting to jobs they hated, choked by their ties on their way to the daily grind. Young people travelling to airports to see the world, young lovers meeting on platforms. Conversations he never meant to eavesdrop on, but somehow always managed to hear. It was like he was meant to.  
His life had cycled and changed, as life does. But always steadfast in his heart was his job.  
The kids went off to college thanks to the many bonus cheques and overtime he put into the grand old station, and there was that one time he helped the CIA with that massive drug bust a few years ago. The newspaper cutting with his picture now held pride of place in the family album. It smelled of dust and was now turning brown. But still, it cleared the mortgage.  
In many ways, he had a lot to thank the station for.

That morning started like any other morning before it, for Jeff. He rose to the smell of buttered pancakes in the kitchen and the wonderful hum of his wife's voice. He took a big intake of breath, the content type, that makes your chest quiver a little.  
The familiar sound of his slippers slowly and steadily shuffling across the floor boards above signalled to Patty that Jeff was awake. She poured a glass of orange juice into a tall glass and sat it beside the pancakes and bacon that she had made so lovingly. A domino effect. This ritual, set in stone since they can remember. Infinitum.

A crisp shirt sat on the back of the chair. The smell of starch and the thick, fixed lines ironed deep into the sides and arms of the shirt didn't falter under Jeff's thick thumb as it travelled along them.  
For all his previous military service in the marine corps, Jeff thought to himself, it was like Patty had served herself, pressing and ironing uniforms to the finest detail. She could probably stand up better to the interfering Sergeant Major a lot better too he thought, and a grin creeped sideways across his mouth. Patty saw this childish grin she fell for all those years ago and a youthful smile danced in her eyes, even though they were now wrinkled. She felt Jeff's strong hands squeeze her shoulders and he kissed her neck just below her earlobe.

It was the little things they loved about each other.

Jeff chewed on the crispy bacon and thought about all he had to do that day. He wished he had gone in an hour earlier to keep an eye on the new newspaper guy. He could have sworn he saw him somewhere before and he didn't like the look of him. It was harder to get out of bed now. Now that Jeff's bones creaked and he felt his age. But there was life in the old dog yet.  
He finished up breakfast, shrugged on the crisp shirt, grabbed his belt and kissed Patty goodbye as she did up his tie and handed him a coffee in a travel mug at the same time.

The journey to the station wasn't long for Jeff. He crossed over ambassador bridge, the morning sun bright in the blue sky. He entered the Corktown district of Detroit. Approximately 3/4 of a mile southwest of downtown Detroit. He checked the clock on the dash, 08:15am. It took him precisely 2 and a half minutes longer to get to work today. He observed commuters briskly walking through Roosevelt Park that served as the entrance way to the station. He noted the Community Rehabilitation Centre and it's members building a memorial fountain and planting bright flowers. He was happy to be a part of this programme that offered addicts the opportunity to learn new skills. Jeff was never so pleased to hear the mayor declare the reopening of the station back in 1994 after Amtrak ceased to operate from there. The station was not just a station to Jeff. It was part of the community of Detroit and it was where his parents first met. It was also more than a station to him because of the high profile expensive historical paintings that hung in the grand hallways. They always seemed at home there in this gothic train station. Sometimes it gave Jeff an eery feeling but this was the very reason why Jeff was hired, and another reason why no one knew of the high tech security equipment that hid behind the walls of the oval security office and all over the station.  
Jeff entered through the back security gate and he pulled up his jeep in the reserved spot for him, head security officer. His bunch of keys jingled on his belt as he strode down the station platform to the security office where he was to take over from the night shift from Bart Hendleman. Too many times now he had walked in on Hendleman asleep on the job, but he was a good kid and had straightened himself out. Mrs. Hendleman came to Jeff after the death of her husband, to try and get Bart into a job. He had become depressed and dropped out of a football scholarship. But Jeff knew how these kind of kids worked, he saw them everyday in the marine corp and turned out many a fine marine.

The low hum of the monitors and the faint scent of honeysuckle air freshener was almost homely to Jeff. This was his fort. He glanced quickly over the various monitors on the wall. Everything seemed just as it should be. He turned to see Bart, one shoulder rested against the door frame, the other shoulder draped in one of his mothers finest Egyptian cotton towels. He yawned and smiled at Jeff at the same time. His whispy, college boy hair resting on his forehead. The sun was in it, gold flecks sparkling here and there. Jeff teased him about it all the time, telling him he should have applied to Abercrombie & Fitch and not the security office. Although, Jeff was thankful for the quarter backs well built physique when running those wayward teenagers out of the station. He was glad to have him around, especially since Joe, his eldest son had gone off to college. There was something special about the kid. You could see it in those sea blue eyes.  
Jeff was comfortable to say he could entrust Bart with the station when his retirement day came round.

"Everything above board here kid? No trouble with those kids from downtown?" Jeff always consciously tried to not sound military. That was a chapter he had closed.  
"Yes boss!"  
Bart's twinkling blue eyes were unusually humorous for this hour of the morning. His voice had a slight southern twang from the summers he spent with his fathers family in Louisiana. It made him very popular with the ladies here in Detroit.  
"I made sure there was fresh coffee in the pot and I kept an extra close eye on that newspaper guy you were tellin' me about".  
Jeff turned towards the monitor and used the toggle to zoom in on the new newspaper stand. Everything seemed normal. But normal never did sit right with Jeff, and he decided he would continue to keep an eye on him.  
"So, how did your big date go the other night? Did you do the 'Bart man' for her?!". Jeff broke into hysterical laughing, his laugh bending him in two, one hand holding his hip, the other draped over the big leather swivel chair in front of the monitors. He always teased Bart about his first name whenever the occasion presented itself, and he always took full advantage. Bart lunged at Jeff and the two jostled like teenagers in the small oval office.  
"You think you're so funny old man, she loved the Bart man, she had me up all that night which is why I gotta hit the road and catch myself some Z's. I'm meeting her for lunch. Man, she is a firecracker".  
Jeff didn't question that Bart had found himself a catch, the kid looked like something fresh off a catwalk.  
"Hit the road kid, but if you ever wanna introduce her to a real man you know where to bring her" Jeff teased Bart.  
Bart stuck his hip out to one side and mouthed 'What evvvverrrr' making a loser sign on his forehead as he backed out the door.

He loved that kids sense of humour and the friendship they had found in one another.

Chapter 3 coming soon!


	3. Chapter 3

Taking the final mouthful of coffee from his mug, Jeff decided to lock up the office and go for his first morning patrol of the station. Before he did so, he radioed the other security staff upstairs in the office just to check in and make sure that everything was in order.  
Jeff clicked the button on the side, waited a brief second and began his message, consciously aware of how military he sounded. This was no alien task to Jeff. Being a sergeant in the marine corps meant that he had excellent communication skills and a vast knowledge of radio equipment.  
"Hello Alpha Two Charlie….This is zero, message. Over."  
His thumb released the button on the side, the transmission made a clicking sound, and then there was silence. He repeated the action, no stranger to it.  
"Hello Alpha Two Charlie, Hello Alpha Two Charlie, message over".  
Nothing.  
No static, no sound. Just the gentle hum from the monitors in the secluded oval office.  
Jeff checked his watch, it was now 08:45am and all security staff should have been in by now. He decided to take a walk up to the office in the building above the station. He remembered it was Monday and that meant the checks were happening on the equipment after the weekend and maybe the guys were just checking the radios.  
He took the keys from his belt and locked the heavy door to the monitor room. Whistling quietly to himself, he started on his journey down the main waiting room to the elevators and stairway that took employees to the offices above.

Jeff took another big intake of air, the smell of the station filling his senses. All of the memories, possessing him. He really loved this place.

For over 75 years now this station shipped boys off to the war. Instead of bringing boys home, it brought soldiers home, their sweethearts waiting for them on the platform, their hair set in pretty curls. It took them on vacations and sent them off to visit family.  
It was Detroit's Ellis Island.  
Many generations of families took their first steps into the city through the station. Some as far away as Ireland.  
The walls still echoed the sounds of hellos and goodbyes. The air carried the sense of great sorrow, and great joy. Sometimes you can still smell the coal from the old steam trains.  
Jeff stopped at a certain point on the platform and tried to paint the memory in his mind of his Mother and Father, the day they first met. Ever since he was a little boy he enjoyed this story. His mother was wearing a beautiful burgundy dress with a tailored over coat to match, it had an intricate style of black embroidery on the cuff and breast with black buttons to match. Her dark hair was rolled up and tucked in under a beautiful burgundy hat. His father always wondered how something so beautiful could be standing in front of him. He wasn't looking too bad himself, donned in his military service uniform, all clean and smelling of lemon soap. He used to joke with Jeff and his siblings about how he was stopped all the time when people thought he was Elvis Priestley when he was in the army. That always set his Mother off laughing. His father told them about how he was waiting on his brother to take him home from the station when he saw her standing outside the sweet shop looking into the bag of boiled sweets she had just purchased. He just had to know her name. That very night he took her out for dinner and the rest was history.  
It really was much more than a station. There was magic in its walls.

Jeff rocked back and forth on his feet, looking around him. The three storey station and eighteen storey office tower really was a sight to behold. It was made up of more than 8 million bricks, one hundred and twenty seven thousand cubic feet of stone and seven thousand tons of structural steel. When the station first opened it was the tallest railroad station in the world, and the fourth tallest building in Detroit.  
Jeff passed by the ticket stalls and remembered that the very first ticket sold at the station terminal was payed for with "a bright new $20 gold piece" by a passenger from Bay City, Michigan. The actual newspaper article from the Tribune is encased in a glass case at the ticket stalls where Jeff stands.  
The very first "lost article" was a poodle named Tessie, who got away from her owner when she let her run loose while she waited for the train on December 27th, 1913. Tessie was later found in the outer gallery playing with the cab drivers. A bronze statue of Tessie took pride of place in the ladies reading room that now served as the stations museum, at the end of the hall. Jeff chuckled to himself as he thought this was a far cry from what he had to deal with today.  
He looked around the buildings centrepiece which was the main waiting room. It had marble floors and soaring fifty four and a half foot ceilings, above it hanging a grand clock. A gift from the Mayor when it reopened. This was Jeff's favourite part of the station.  
The main waiting room was modelled after the public baths of Ancient Rome. Covered by Guastavino tile vaults divided by broad coffered arches – this magnificent waiting room was decorated with marble, bronze chandeliers, gargantuan sixty eight foot Corinthian columns and three arched twenty one by forty foot windows, flanked by four smaller windows ornamented with beautiful wrought iron grilles.

It was an experience.

You would enter from the Roosevelt Park into this other worldly waiting room, walking through bronze doors with mahogany trim. You were surrounded by cream coloured brick, marble finishes and massive soaring arches. Enveloped by it all. It took Jeff's breath away every day.  
Every day on his patrols, Jeff counts it's blessings; there are fourteen marble pillars set against the walls and at the entrance to the concourse. The depot itself that houses the ticket offices, the restaurant and other facilities is ninety eight feet tall. The waiting room is ninety seven foot wide and two hundred and thirty foot long. Its arched ceiling is sixty five feet high. Jeff remembers being 10 years young gazing up in awe at the high ceilings, without a care in the world. Rubber necked. Now, all of this was in his hands.  
Just beyond the waiting room you buy your ticket from the ornate counter, then you walk down the twenty eight feet tall arcade that is home to the newsstand, the pharmacy, the sweet shop, the gift shop and an old style barber shop where you can get a short back and sides or a hot towel shave from Abdul. At either end of the waiting room are the lounge areas.  
What used to be a men's smoking room, with mahogany panels and a coffered ceiling, is now home to vast paintings and sculptures. On the other end a women's reading room illuminated by Italian globes, also housed the same, and Tessie the poodle. These were ran by the Detroit's historical society, and Jeff loved to poke his head round the door every other day, just to have a chat.  
In addition to the arcade and waiting room, was a restaurant, where the young Jane Morgan hosted a beautiful counter and her cook Aunt Bessy with her Southern soul, cooked Jeff up pretty much whatever he wanted. Her big white smile on her ebony skin, always making him feel welcome and her laugh almost as big as herself. He loved the way she rolled her hair underneath pretty coloured scarves like they did in the old days.  
The restaurant was quite a sight, it had vaulted ceilings, a main concourse with copper skylights and a fine lunch counter with Welsh quarry tile. It was almost exactly as it looked in its prime.  
Just beyond this were bathing facilities where travellers could freshen up, but today it served as the men and womens toilet and washroom. This used to be a spot of difficulty for Jeff with addicts and youngsters with spray cans and graffiti, so he decided to place a security guard here full time to deter from the activity. He could see the new security guy Alex sitting at his chair, one leg folded over the other, the morning paper spread wide. He nodded to Jeff.  
Right beside the toilets was a little place where you used to be able to send telegrams, buy postcards or make telephone calls. The historical telegram machines were still there, but nowadays there were more modern facilities to charge your iPhone and make a Skype call if you so desired.

Jeff turned off the main waiting room and entered a more hidden part of the station. He started to make his way upwards towards the five hundred offices that housed all the personnel that worked at the station and the many historians and artists that looked after the paintings and the other historical artifacts. The fine decor didn't stop inside the station. The employees quarters were just as plush, with halls lined in white marble wainscoting and terrazzo floors.  
At the main desk sat a pretty secretary in a crisp white shirt and even whiter teeth to match. Her dazzling smile and perfect hair giving the atmosphere of the office foyer a very 1950′s feel.  
Jeff noted Henry, the more senior member of the security staff, seated at his cubicle in front of the monitor, his glasses perched on his nose, his shoes shining like a new penny.  
"Mornin' Jeff, fine mornin' it is too" he said with his thick Detroit accent. Home grown.  
His humorous face was one of Jeff's favourite things about him. Henry was one of the stations very first security men. He moved Henry upstairs to the more tranquil surroundings of the office building. Things had gotten a little too rough in the station in the last few years and Jeff worried that someone of Henry's age might fall foul to the less attractive activity that went on at the station.  
"It's a fine morning Henry, how's everything going here buddy? All in order?"  
"Oh you betcha Boss, these blue collar and college grads ain't got nothin' on old hobnail boots here" Henry laughed with his belly, his two hands resting on top of it.  
Jeff patted him on the back and made his way into the main security headquarters. There was a flurry of activity inside. Monday was always like this and Jeff revelled in seeing everybody so busy. He noted a group of his guys with a checklist and hard plastic briefcases and storage boxes.  
He was right. No wonder no one answered him over the net, the radios weren't even on yet. However, he was happy to see them all checking everything with a fine tooth comb, just the way he liked.  
His mind flashed back to his operational days in the marine corps and he remembered how his guys all rolled their eyes in unison when he would tell his platoon to do an ordnance check. He laughed quietly to himself and took in all the activity. He was amazed at how steadily the security team grew and how intelligent it was. They had access to equipment Jeff was lucky enough to put his hands on in the military.  
Before Jeff started at the station the security staff consisted of 2 full time staff and a spotty half-teenager that forgot to do leg days. It had now become this organised company with a great reputation and one of the best jobs at the station. They even had pension benefits and opportunities to complete relevant courses in the security industry, something Jeff proudly but silently thanked himself for.  
Jeff's eyes scanned the vast room, with different screens and monitors but his eyes rested on the four monitor crew huddled around one of the screens. The crowd began to grow as someone shouted out "Get the boss quick, there's something he needs to see".  
Jeff was over at the screen causing the commotion in two or three strides. "The boss is here kid, what seems to be the matter".  
"Eh, Mornin' boss, I dunno how we didn't spot this sooner, or how the night shift didn't manage to see this, but, uh, there's a body in the main building".  
Jeff, resting his muscular frame on two giant closed fists on the desk, looked quizzically into the young mans eyes and then stared at the buzzing screen.  
And there it was, looking straight back at him…..

A shoeless foot.


End file.
